Fires of Summer: A Skyrim Romance Mod Fanfiction
by Sasha251125
Summary: Summer is a modern girl who is an accidental victim of a curse that sends her into the world of Skyrim. Now, she must complete the questline to escape the game. When she begins to fall for an NPC, she becomes torn and must make a choice; save Skyrim and get back to her world, or let it burn for the sake of love?


**Chapter 1**

 _My name is Summer Walsh and I am 24 years old. I'm probably going to die here and for some reason it bothers me that no one will know anything about me. Maybe if I hadn't left that night, I'd still be home. Or maybe this was just inescapable destiny_ _…_

* * *

Summer's favorite place to be was in nature—a setting just like this, in fact. The aspens were turning slight colors, all you could smell was earth and pine, and the waves on the lake glittered in the early morning sunlight. However, she usually _planned_ to be in that setting.

"Hello?" Her voiced echoed off the nearby canyons, answered by no one. "Please someone?"

She stumbled on a fallen branch and continued to trek along the lake's shoreline. The hem of her jeans were becoming caked with mud from a recent rain and, though she probably shouldn't, she cared a bit that they were becoming moist and itchy around her ankles. Her hands wrapped themselves around her waist and she wasn't sure if it was the chill or her adrenaline that made her shake.

"Hello?"

A dragonfly darted by. She looked up at the cliffs beside her, trying to search for any sign of life. Aside from the insects, she felt alone. Up ahead a small puff of constant smoke gave her hope. Walking a little faster, she eventually could make out the outline of a small village. Her calves burned from her hike, but she pushed the discomfort out of her mind; a phone awaited.

Suddenly a loud roar shook the canyon and she stopped. Summer knew it was a wild animal— _a large one_. She began to walk faster. By the second roar she was running. The soft mud stuck to her shoes, slowing her. "Help!" Her voice cracked as she screamed. Her chest burned with the effort and her legs became lethargic. She slowed for a moment to regain her breath, glancing behind her.

"Fuck!" She spat, feeling sick. The town wasn't nearly close enough—a good half mile away. With no other noises or signs of life, she continued her brisk walk. "I hate running," she said. "All those people who run for a living, why?" Her brain reasoned that she would be there already if she'd been one of "those people".

Within a few minutes she was close enough to see the town clearly, though it looked just as lifeless as the forest. Beside the smoke arising from a single chimney, she might think it abandoned. There was also no sign of a bridge or any dry crossing. She cursed and glanced around.

Rocks fell behind her. First a couple, then a few more. Then, the unmistakable growl of a predator. Summer's limbs went cold and her fingers trembled. Her heart slammed against her chest and she whirled around to sight she'd never expect: a saber-toothed tiger. Living, breathing, and _hunting_.

Summer gasped and took off down the bank as fast as she could. She could hear the cat hissing behind her as it followed. "Help me!" She dove into the water, trying to get across. The water quickly became too deep to stand and the current easily pulled her. "Help!" She turned around to see the cat following along the bank, hesitating from getting into the river more than ankle-deep.

"Hel-" Summer choked, swallowing water that tasted of pure fish and algae. She'd never been the strongest swimmer and struggled to keep the current from dragging her too close to the cat. "Help!"

Her fingers clawed at the boulders nearby as the river carried her. They were too slick. The saber-toothed roared and swiped when she got too close, chasing her from along the dry bank. The deadly claws tore some of her curls out. "Help me, please!" She sobbed, desperately fighting the current.

"Someone ple-" She swallowed more water. Helpless, she watched the town pass as the current grew stronger and pulled her downstream. The saber-toothed lunged once again, this time catching the flesh of her shoulder. She cried out and floundered further in, sucking in water up her nose.

Ahead the water turned white and Summer screamed, though it came out a choked gurgle. Sharp twigs and objects cut her palms when she tried to grope below. A small whitecap overtook her and she was blinded by the water. By the time she had cleared her vision, she could see the cat waiting for her on the side of the waterfall. Like a bear about to catch his salmon. She was trapped. If she stopped even for a moment, the beast would have her.

Letting out her best battle cry she swam toward the boulder that split the waterfall in two. Almost to it, she swung her legs around feet first. Her hip hit the stone so hard she thought it might have fractured. The tiger roared and lunged.

Summer went over the falls.

Her back scraped the rocks on the way down and her knees hit more at the bottom. Both of them exploded in agony. As soon as she reached the surface, she went sliding over a second fall. Much smaller, this one allowed her to easily crumple into the shallow pool below. But it didn't stop. As she struggled between gasps, she was pulled over a third.

The landscape rushed by in white foam and gray stone as she tried to grab hold of anything solid. Her head was spinning and she wasn't sure which way meant safety. The fourth and final waterfall—the largest of all—came in this moment of confusion. She slid and fell among the cascading water, bracing for the landing.

Once, when she was ten, she'd been dragged under in the ocean. She tumbled underwater until she wasn't sure what way was up or down. She knew the wrong way would drown her, but her mother, having grown up on the ocean, had taught her well. Summer kept very calm and felt herself slowly begin to rise in the right direction. It had saved her then and it saved her now.

Summer choked on the massive breath of air she took, her legs hitting the bottom of the calm waters and she shakily found her footing. She coughed up the water rattling in her lungs and sank to all fours in the shallow water, crawling to the shore. When she looked back at the falls behind her, she found no evidence of the saber-toothed and collapsed on her side.

The soft grass was warm from the sun and she took steadying breaths. Her eyes were foggy and burning and she struggled to keep them open. She hacked and spit the taste of fish out of her mouth, still facing the waterfall. If she could only catch her breath…

A road cut through the mountain and presumably passed along the bank just over her head. A road meant someone would pass by. Help was still possible!

Her muscles trembled as Summer pushed herself from the ground. As she got to all fours, she came face to face with a wolf— _a very large wolf._ She fisted the grass beneath her hands, bracing herself for the inevitable attack. The wolf stuck out its nose and inched forward. Summer shut her eyes.

The wet nose trailed along her forehead, sticking into her ear and sniffing. She flinched and it went away, followed by a soft bark. Opening her eyes, she found the wolf's tail wagging, his golden eyes trained on her. His paw stamped at the ground and he let out another bark.

Summer felt herself relax and shifted her weight to one hand. Slowly, she slid it toward him, stopping midway. The wolf let out a whine and stepped forward, nuzzling her hand until it cupped his muzzle. His gray fur was slightly tinted with rust and fluffy. She slid her hand over his head, petting the wiry, but soft fur. His tail wagged a bit faster.

In all sense of the term, Summer was a "dog person". But never in her life would she have thought to be petting a wild wolf. He licked her forearm a bit and Summer felt herself relax. When she collapsed down to her elbows, the wolf went with, laying down on his stomach.

"Good boy." Summer had to clear her throat to get the words out. "Or girl," she amended. The wolf continued to lick the inside of her forearm. "You're a nice wolf." Even to her the words sounded strange aloud.

Suddenly the wolf's ears perked and his head snapped to the right. He slowly rose and bared his teeth. Summer heard the growl as soon as she saw the cat, slowly stalking down the road. The wolf stepped a little closer and growled a warning of his own. He was nearly as large as the saber-tooth, but lacked in the claws.

The cat continued closer, unwilling to back down from its meal. Summer tried to slide away, but it was too late. The cat lunged and the wolf reciprocated. In a flurry of fur and snarls, the two attacked and Summer could do little but watch with fear. The saber-toothed swiped at the wolf, eliciting a yelp of pain that squeezed Summer's heart. She looked for a stick to help, but found only twigs and weeds. A stone would work, but if she hit the wrong animal…

The wolf caught the cat by the throat and in a spray of blood, the battle was over. The cat fell to the road, gurgling and choking. Satisfied in his kill, the wolf trotted back to Summer, his light-colored chin and chest now stained with the blood of his victory.

Summer supposed she should have worried she was next, but she simply laid back on the grassy bank, shivering from the breeze that cooled her sodden clothes. "This is unreal," she said, breathless. Her head rested on her good bicep and she let the wolf come and lick her cheek. His breath reeked with the metallic scent of blood, and she was sure some of it had been smeared on her skin along with his kisses.

The wolf whined and circled around her restlessly a few times, licking his chops. Summer couldn't bring herself to move yet. Despite the chill in the air, it felt good to be lying on solid, warm soil. Bones pressed into her sore back as the wolf laid down beside her. She curled closer to his warmth and closed her eyes. The combination of the rising sun and the fluffy fur warmed her slowly and she felt herself drifting in and out of sleep. She was exhausted, bruised, and sore.

The feel of the wolf leaving woke her from the trance and she whimpered at the sudden loss of heat. "If I would have known you'd bring a woman, I'd have told you to fetch more often!" A deep voice said.

Summer immediately pushed herself up, fumbling a bit with her weakened muscles. The man stood tall and was solidly built. His large hand was buried in the wolf's fur, giving the animal a fearless scratch that told her who the wolf belonged with. The man was covered in darker fabrics from head to toe, most of it worn leather. None of it looked modern to her. In fact, he looked almost medieval with his stiff shoulder pads and buckles galore.

He seemed to look at her more seriously when she tried to get up. "Please," she reached for him. "I need help." With only a few steps he was in front of her, one hand holding hers, while the other curled around her ribs and hoisted her to her feet. Her legs felt like spaghetti under her and she kept one hand on the stiff, leather-clad board that was his shoulder.

"Can you tell me where I am? Am I still in Arizona?"

The man looked at her with a furrowed brow, that then relaxed when he let out a laugh. "Had too much mead from Honningbrew," he nodded to a building not far from where they were standing. "Happens to the best of us. You're halfway between Riverwood and Whiterun, Darling."

She blinked at the foreign names. "Whiterun?"

He took her by the shoulders and forced her to face a large city a couple miles away. She could just barely make out a high wall and a large castle. "Whiterun. Best of luck to you." He let her go and she wobbled for a moment before finding her footing. He began walking in the direction she came from. "Stick with wine from now on, Darling. Won't hit you so hard in the morning."

"Wait!" She grabbed him by the arm. "Will you take me to Whiterun?"

The man scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I got better things to do than babysit."

"Well, where are you headed?"

"Riverwood," he gestured up the way, suddenly catching sight of the saber-toothed corpse. His eyes looked to Summer for a moment, then to the wolf, and back to the corpse. He sighed and scrubbed his short brown hair, causing it to spike a bit more in the front. "Look, you can come with us to Riverwood, but that's it."

Summer supposed Riverwood would have to do and nodded. "That's fine."

The man scoffed and began hiking up the road as she followed on shaky legs.

"I'm Summer, by the way." She trailed after him up to the dead cat, where he was circling and assessing. He merely grunted in response and took hold of a tooth, lifting the head. "And you are?"

"Bishop."

The wolf nuzzled her hip and she winced, but returned the gesture with affection and a smile. "And who is this guy?" When he was still silent, she looked up.

Bishop was glaring at her, one hand holding the tooth and one foot over the face. "Karnwyr." He stepped down and the tooth broke out of the jaw with a sickening snap and pop. He smirked at the disgust that crossed her face.

Summer swallowed the sick that rose in her throat. She watched as he set up the second tusk for the same. "I'm not…in Arizona, am I?"

The second tusk came off with the same sound as the first and Bishop washed the blood and flesh in the falls. "You sure aren't, Darling."

Summer took in the thatched housing of the mead brewery and took a breath. "Is this part of Westeros?" When he didn't answer she moved closer and dropped her voice a bit. "Who is on the Iron Throne? Is it Ceresi? Or is it someone else? Personally I was voting for Daenerys."

Bishop stared at her, confused. "Daenerys?"

"You know," she said. "Mother of dragons?"

He laughed out loud then, a rich and hearty laugh that made her stomach turn. She couldn't decide if it sounded like a villain's laugh or not. It was definitely deep and dark enough. "I'd love to have a drink with you, Darling. You look like you enjoy my kind of fun, even in that outfit."

Summer looked down and saw herself from his perspective. Her jeans were muddied, torn and bloody around the knees. The gray tee that held a signature devil pitchfork in yellow and red was just as tattered. Three deep cuts covered her right shoulder and her arms were covered in tiny scratches, and stains of green algae dotted her torso. Although she couldn't see it, a quick hand through her hair told her it was littered with leaves, twigs, and whatnot.

"Am I not in Westeros then?" That was the only question she would bring to the open, though it felt ridiculous to ask.

"No, Darling. You're in _Skyrim_. And there hasn't been dragons here for centuries."

The name, as he said it, flashed in her mind. She could easily see the logo on her boyfriend's computer screen. The diamond-shaped logo, the deep theme music, the hours upon hours of fighting—

The loud roar she heard before sounded again, and the earth trembled.

 _Dragons_.

The two of them locked eyes. "I think they're back," she said.

* * *

Riverwood was just as awful in real life as Summer would have imagined. The seats were hard, the ale tasted cheap, and the locals were simple people. A warm fire was the only thing that kept her from going insane, though everyone in the bar gawked at her like she was.

Since arriving—probably hours ago, now—Bishop had kindly bought her "a hair of the dog" and Summer had done nothing but drink, pull up a chair, and stare into the flames. She hadn't gone deaf to the whispers around her, she knew she was an oddity in this place. However, she couldn't bring herself to care, given the circumstances.

She finished off the warm ale with a grimace and set the mug by the fire. Her mind reached back to the moment she had touched the mouse and her whole world had changed. She knew magic had brought her here, maybe magic would get her out again. But was magic taboo here? Summer had never played this game, she had no clue. Her eyes drifted to the barkeep, who had enough sense to look away when she caught him staring.

"One way to find out," she mumbled to herself and snatched up her empty cup. With a fake smile she returned it.

"Another ale?" The barkeep asked.

"No thank you," Summer said. "But I do have a question for you." She glanced around to check the proximity of other guests. "Who around here might know about…magic?" She lowered her voice and waited to gauge the reaction.

"If you're looking to learn a thing or two about spells, the court wizard in Whiterun'll be your guy. He's the best wizard in these parts." The conversational tone to his response meant that magic was known and accepted. Well, at least one thing was working in her favor.

"Thanks," she awkwardly walked away when they both realized she had no intention of tipping him for his information.

So there was a powerful wizard in the Whiterun court. Perhaps he would have more information on how to get back to her world…dimension… _whatever_. Now her only trouble would be convincing Bishop to take her there.

As she exited, she took note of a mirror in an open room and began fixing up her hair. Although the mass of curls defied taming, she could at least be free of nature's gifts. When she felt it looked halfway decent, Summer went in search of the wolf-man.

She didn't have to look far, he was leaning up against the jamb just outside the door, drinking his ale. "The dead has arisen."

"What's all that about?" Summer said. There was a commotion in the street, causing a group to gather.

"Apparently one of them escaped the chopping block." Bishop adjusted his stance against the wall. "Now they're making plans on how to tell Whiterun about the dragon." He took a swig and staggered. "Suppose you'll be volunteering?"

"Actually," she bit her lip. "I was going to ask if you'd go with me."

Bishop frowned, glaring down at her. "I've already answered that question, Darling. Answer's 'no'."

"But your wolf helped me!"

"Which means you should be owing your life to him, not the other way around."

"But it has to mean something!" Bishop drank his ale in reply. "Then I guess I'll be volunteering alone." She took the steps down to the street and stood as tall and confident as she could. She made her way through the crowd, listening to what was being said.

"If that dragon comes back, we'll need more men."

"We need to send someone to Whiterun as soon as possible."

"I can't abandon my forge—someone needs to start making weapons if there's dragons around!"

"I'll go!" Summer raised her hand, catching the attention of the group. She supposed she needn't have bothered. Her attire did a great job of it already. "I'll send word to the king of Whiterun."

They stared at her, blankly.

" _By the nine_ —" Bishop's shoes thudded down the stairs. "She means the _Jarl_." She could feel him come up behind her though she didn't dare turn around. He cursed to himself before mumbling, "I'll see to it she gets word there."

Unusually satisfied, the townsfolk agreed and dispersed like nothing had happened.

"What curse have you brought on me, Woman?"

Summer still didn't look at him. "You have no idea." She walked a few paces, stopping when she was almost to the trader's. Turning around she put a hand on her hip. "Well, are you coming with me or not?"

Bishop folded his arms and smirked, sizing her up. "Whiterun is _this_ way, Darling." Although her cheeks warmed, Summer strode past the man and his wolf, faking deafness to his chuckles as she passed.

The three followed the winding path down the hill—a path she was getting to know a little too well at this point. Summer eventually lessened her lead and walked a little closer to her companions. She enjoyed the mid-afternoon sun as it streamed through the trees, and enjoyed seeing the bunnies as they raced across their path. She paused long enough to pick a pretty blue flower from the side of the road.

"Look familiar?" Bishop mused, lightly kicking the corpse of the saber-toothed. Bugs had begun to swarm the mouth where he'd not-so-daintily plucked out the valuable tusks. She guessed he'd traded them in town since they were now missing.

Summer rolled her eyes and tossed the flower into the river, watching it float gently on the soft tide. "So what is it you actually do?" She asked, examining the scratch to her arm. She was thankful the vicious claws hadn't cut deeper. Though she needed to disinfect it soon, she suspected.

Bishop slowly glanced over at her. "What do you mean?" Karnwyr rushed off into the bushes after a bunny, leaving them alone for a moment.

"You seem to know your way around pretty well. Are you a hunter or…?"

Bishop scoffed, staring straight ahead. A bit of scruff was starting to form on his jaw. "I guess you could say that." He elected not to elaborate.

"Look, you don't have to get all moody on me. I'm just trying to make conversation."

Bishop sighed. "Look, Sweetness, I didn't come on this journey to hear you talk. I came to make sure you didn't end up a saber's meal… _again_."

"For your information I've done a lot of camping. I would have been just fine now that I know where I'm going." That was a lie.

Bishop laughed, that deep hearty laugh that made her uneasy. "' _I've been camping'_ , she says. Look Sweetheart, a little bit of camping isn't enough in this world. It's life and death out here. And if you want to survive, you'd better adapt." His hand rested on the hilt of his knife as he walked. He looked comfortable and relaxed as he stepped down the road. She almost hated him for it. She felt so powerless.

"So I take it you've always lived in the wild, then?"

He stared straight ahead but his eyes seemed unfocused. "No. But I come from a family of… hunters. We traveled a lot and did what we had to." He shook his head and looked to Summer. His golden eyes seemed to catch the sun and it made them look like amber. "And what about you? To be honest I'm surprised you've ever ventured outside with hands like yours."

Summer frowned and held out her palms. Her skin was much lighter than his, though she suspected he had a naturally tan tone to begin with. The biggest difference was that his hands were rough, calloused, and scarred. Hers were soft and only marked by a couple of freckles and a few fresh cuts.

She folded arms and hid her hands. "Looks can be deceiving." Up ahead she noticed a woman working in a small fenced farm.

"I highly doubt that, Princess."

She glared at him. "My name is _Summer_."

"Oh, forgive me your majesty!" Bishop stopped and made a grand sweeping bow. " _Princess Summer_! How can I be of service to you?"

The woman continued to work, but looked on with interest at the scene. Her face aflame, Summer walked quickly up the path. "Fuck you, Bishop."

He growled lowly behind her. "Is that a promise, Princess?"

The retort caught in her throat as the Earth began to rhythmically pound beneath her. "What's that?" She looked around but saw nothing. It picked up pace and intensity and soon the woman in the farm left the field shrieking. Summer looked to Bishop who was grinning wildly.

"About time!" He cried, racing off up the road. Summer followed after him, cursing her tender legs when the muscles protested. Up ahead she could hear the shouting of several people and felt a relief that was short lived. She came to a skidding halt in the middle of the road as a wrinkled, human-like form rose up and stood at the height of the farm's mill.

"No way…" Summer felt like the wind was knocked out of her lungs at the sight of a giant. His tall, lean body stretched to its full height and beyond as he raised a club the size of a small tree and brought it down to the earth.

At his feet, a group of warriors swarmed. They attacked using various weapons and swords, skillfully landing blow after blow. She watched the scene with a mixture of horror and awe. The sheer power it displayed was terrifying. Among the chaos, was Karnwyr. His barks were easily drowned out by the giant's shouts of rage.

The wolf bravely attacked at the heel and on the back of the legs, skirting away when the giant moved to retaliate. Suddenly, the giant broke his pattern and caught Karnwyr just as he was about to bite. Raising his club, he aimed to crush the wolf.

"No!" Summer's scream caught the giant's attention. His eyes trained on the lone woman and he took a step for her. His next one crushed the farm's wagon like it was made of toothpicks. The next took out a sizable portion of the wall.

Summer was already backing up, stumbling over the cobblestone path. Her breaths came hard and fast. Her heel hit a rock and she fell down, landing painfully on her butt. The giant was already upon her and she desperately scrambled backwards. He easily caught her and swung up his club. She watched in horror, sure she was going to be the next bloodied crater.

" _Hey_!"

They both turned to the voice that was only a few yards away. Bishop stood, fearlessly poised with his bow. "Perfect," he said, releasing the arrow. In a second it struck and the giant screamed in pain, covering his eye. Then, he crumbled in a massive heap that felt like an earthquake, his arm landing inches from her feet.

Summer stared at it in disbelief, her limbs shaking. Her heart was still pounding and she was struggling to breathe. "What the fuck?" She sunk back to her forearms when she was sure it was dead and took some deep breaths, hanging her head backwards. The sky was a beautiful clear blue without a cloud to be seen. Peace and quiet seemed to return around her and she took a moment to appreciate that she was unharmed…for the most part.

The face of Bishop intruded on her view. He smirked down at her and held out a hand. "Well well, you've certainly got the damsel in distress thing, Princess."

She wanted to punch him in his arrogant jaw. Instead, she took a deep breath and took his hand. Effortlessly, he helped her up and she grimaced. "Fuck," she said, one hand on her lower back as she bent over. "I think I broke my ass."

He let out a bark of laughter that she didn't return. She was ready to call it a day and get back home. More than half of her body was covered in cuts and less than a third hurt continuously. Not to mention she still wasn't sure she hadn't fractured her hip when she hit the rock. She felt the bone and hissed in pain.

"Well, glad that's over." A female warrior, dressed in fur and emeralds, said. Her hair was darker and more faded than Summer's, but was still vibrantly red. Her friends—men wearing bulky metal armor—were approaching behind her. "No thanks to you," she narrowed her green eyes on Summer.

"Excuse me?"

"Your little diversion could have gotten everyone killed. Half the farm is destroyed now because of you," the warrior put her hands on her hips, sneering.

The frustration and humiliation of the day tightened in Summer's stomach and exploded through her veins. "Fuck you, Bitch!" She lunged at the woman, fists drawn. Bishop caught her around the waist, and though her hip screamed in agony she fought against him. Her heel hit Bishop's shin and he groaned but didn't let go.

Similarly, the other warriors were holding their woman back, though all it took was an arm in her path. Insults were flung in a whirlwind of voices—all of it unintelligible.

" _Enough_!" Bishop growled, hugging her tighter and carrying her towards the city.

"Go fuck yourself you stupid—let go of me!" Summer clawed at his arms, but he didn't budge. Instead, he tossed her out in front of him and blocked her path to the woman.

"That's enough! You really think you're any match for a _Companion_?"

Summer huffed. "I don't give a shit."

"Well you should. Do you really think that woman would even blink before killing you?"

"Maybe _I_ would have killed _her_."

"Don't be naïve, Princess. You really think that after everything that's happened, you would even stand a chance?" He snorted. "I doubt you could even beat a chicken, let alone her."

Summer slapped him, hard. Just as quickly, he had her wrist in a painful vice and pulled her close enough that she could feel his warm breath as he spoke. "Don't _ever_ do that again. If you do, I'll take your fucking hand off. Got it?" He didn't wait for her response. He shoved her hand away and charged toward the city.

Bishop's words rang in her head and a chill went down her spine. It was the first time since they met that she was terrified of what he was capable of. The enormity of everything that had happened that day suddenly weighed on her. Tear after tear silently fell on her cheeks and she wiped them away quickly and quietly. The last thing she wanted was for him to mock her for crying.

A cold, wet nose nuzzled her palm. Karnwyr looked up at her and wagged his tail. She pat his head softly and gave him a sad smile. "Good boy." He let out a soft bark before trotting up to be with Bishop. She felt foolish, but trailed after them regardless.

The gate to Whiterun was easily three times her height—an impressive hunk of wood planks and metal hinges that was surrounded by a wall made of stone. The guard was only too eager to let them in once they mentioned a dragon and they were quickly escorted inside.

Whiterun was a quaint city built on a hill, with all of it leading up to Dragonsreach—the Jarl's castle. The stones were all paved in the same cobblestone in the path that the three had taken from Riverwood, and had houses built of wood and mortar. Each one was a standard white with thatched roofs and wooden doors. There was a blacksmith, an older but lovely woman with dark skin and brown hair pulled into a bun. Before going further, Bishop paused to place an order for more bolts and a dagger.

Summer didn't pay too much attention; she was too busy taking in the sights. The sunset had turned the sky into a brilliant array of pastels that cast a dream-like state over the city. Everyone was packing up and heading home or to the tavern. Torches around the city were being lit by a sole boy of about 12 with soot on his face. Even with the smoke from the small fires, the air still smelled fresh.

"Ready?" It was the first word Bishop had spoken to her since she'd slapped him. She nodded and followed his lead.

They went through the town, passing several homes, eventually coming to a small square with a well in the middle. They took a long flight of stairs that tested what little strength she had left. At the top was a large—but very dead—tree and a statue of some god. She could see Dragonsreach just beyond another two flights of stairs and she groaned.

"Come on, Princess. You've come this far." He nudged her shoulder as they both paused to look up at the massive building beyond. "Your new _friend_ lives right over there," he nodded to another house that looked like an overturned boat. "Want to go say hi?" He teased.

She glared at him, but it lacked the conviction it held before. Her response was to begin the climb. Every step stretched the bruised muscles and she briefly thought about crawling up on all fours. Easily enough her lungs began to burn and she was out of breath, but she focused in on the steps and powered through. When she reached the top she collapsed, sitting on the step and letting out a battle cry that garnered plenty of strange looks.

Bishop chuckled and stood behind her, leaning against the short wall and looking out over the city. "Good job, Princess."

"Thank you. The view is incredible, isn't it?" The town, cast in twilight and decorated in tiny dancing flames was almost as surreal as the giant snow-covered mountains that lay beyond. The tallest one to her left was covered in a fog that poured over the top like water and flooded the valley below. She shivered, feeling the cold night air setting in.

After regaining her breath, she got to her feet and headed for the door. A guard robed in chainmail and a helmet that hid his face stopped her. "I was a soldier once, then I took an arrow to the knee," he said, and continued onward. Summer stared after him, confused. Shrugging it off, she went inside.

The Jarl was at the end of the long hall (and more stairs), sitting in a small throne that overlooked the grand dining tables and a giant bonfire that effectively kept the chill out.

A woman drew her sword and approached. Her skin was an ash-gray and her eyes were large and red. Two pointed ears stuck out from her long hair, making her look more alien than human. "Halt! Who are you? What business do you have with the Jarl?"

Summer looked to Bishop who shrugged. "Some help you are," she muttered. "My name is Summer Walsh and I have been sent from…-"

" _Riverwood_."

"-Riverwood to tell you that there was a dragon."

The ash-skinned woman raised an eyebrow. "A dragon?"

"Yeah, it apparently attacked something near there and now they want you to come protect them…I think?" Summer shifted uncomfortably and glanced over at Bishop. His mouth was twitching in a poor effort to keep from laughing. _Jerk_.

"I see, you better talk to the Jarl about this!"

Summer blinked. "Really?" Bishop hit her in the side with an elbow. "I mean, yeah. He should know…" It was too late; the woman had already gone up to interrupt the conversation the Jarl was having with another man. Summer and Bishop edged closer.

"Very smooth, Princess."

"Shut up."

The woman whispered something in the Jarl's ear and he immediately turned his attention to Summer. He was in his mid-forties with long blonde hair and a full beard. His clothes were made with fine linen and trimmed with gold, jewels, and fur. He motioned them closer and they obeyed.

"Irileth tells me that you have news from Riverwood."

Summer nodded, swallowing down the knot in her throat. "Yes sir. There was a dragon seen around there."

"A dragon?" His eyes widened and he sat up in his throne. "In Skyrim?"

"It destroyed Helgen," Bishop said. "A few prisoners of the Imperial army escaped to tell the tale. Riverwood wants your help in defending them."

The Jarl was silent for a moment, contemplating this. "Irileth, send some troops to Riverwood at once."

"But, Jarl Balgruuf!" An aging man in a blue robe approached. It was the same man that had been engaged in a conversation with the Jarl before. "Ulfric will see this as a threat and attack Whiterun!"

"I can't just let my people in Riverwood die, Proventius! Didn't you hear? Helgen is already destroyed, we can't leave Riverwood defenseless." The Jarl dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Irileth—"

"I'll see to it that Riverwood is safe, my Jarl." The ash-skinned woman bowed and left.

Proventius sneered down at Summer and Bishop. "If there is nothing further, I will take my leave."

The Jarl glared at him. "I think that would be best." Proventius left and Balgruuf stood. He was not much taller than Summer's five and a half, which made him seem small compared to Bishop's six-foot, all-muscle stature. "You did well," he said, standing in front of Summer. "I have another task for you."

"What, me?"

"Yes, yes. Come this way," Balgruuf said, leaving her in a cloud of his pungent cologne.

Summer coughed once and trailed a safer distance after him, though his scent was leaving an unpleasant trail. "But I didn't come here to run errands for you," she said, trying not to breathe in too much. "I came to see your wizard."

"And here he is!" Balgruuf made a grand gesture to a man in a black robe, whose face was mostly hidden. What she could see of it, he seemed far from amused.

One side of the room held a large map of Skyrim—or what she assumed was, anyway—and various tables that held a collection of flowers, bones, salts, and other items she did not want to identify. In the corner sat two rather ominous stations. One that looked like a pagan sacrificial table and another that looked like it made nothing but poison.

The Jarl seemed unmoved by this collection and she wondered if he ever doubted the validity of this wizard's virtue. "This is my court wizard, Farengar. Farengar this is…?"

"Summer," she said. "Pleasure to meet you." Her extended hand was met with a dubious glance and a silent nod. She awkwardly withdrew it back to her side, shooting Bishop a warning when she heard him snicker.

"I told you I would find you an assistant." Balgruuf puffed out his chest proudly. "Well then, I'll let you two get acquainted. For now, I'll show your companions to their room."

"What? We get a room?" She said. The prospect of a bed was just too tempting, and she momentarily thought about leaving the wizard until tomorrow.

The Jarl grinned. "Of course. You'll both stay here for the night as my personal guests. My servant will show you to your lodgings as soon as you've finished here."

"Just like that?"

"Hey, Sweetheart, good room and board is hard to come by. Especially free." Bishop winked at her and she had another urge to punch out a tooth and ruin that perfect smile. He seemed to read her mind and laughed, shaking his head and clapping the Jarl on the shoulder. "We should probably leave these two to discuss their _mission_. See you later, Princess."

Summer flipped him the bird though he didn't see it. Even if he did, she doubted he would know what it meant. Though he would probably deduce it. When she turned back, Farengar was examining her from toe to head.

"You're not from here." It was more a fact than a question.

"No I'm not. That's why I came to see you." She lowered her voice and checked for an audience. "Look, I know this is going to sound crazy but hear me out. I need to know if you know anything about traveling between worlds or dimensions or whatever."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm not quite sure what you mean."

Summer checked for any lurking ears once more. "This is going to sound crazy, but I'm not from this world. I'm from a completely different place. One without dragons and giants and magic. Well, mostly anyways. I think it was a curse that sent me here—I don't think it was intended for me, but this is what is happening now. And I need to know how to get back."

He seemed intrigued and suspicious, but not alarmed or afraid of what she said. "And where exactly are you trying to get back to?"

"Somewhere you've never heard of. I'm from Phoenix." She almost kicked herself for putting the name out so casually. "I mean, _Earth_."

She saw his face drop and he looked at her as if she was a ghost. "You have heard of it then! Do you know how I can get back?" She said. He turned away from her, scrubbing his chin. The gesture pushed back his hood a bit and revealed two ridiculously-long sideburns. "Please, you have to help me get back! I don't belong here."

He paced around his desk for a moment, his fingers brushing along some papers that were covered in scribbles of words and crudely-drawn maps. "Phoenix," he whispered, picking up a worn journal that was off to the side. He stared at the cover for a moment. "I can help you."

Her heart leapt with joy and she couldn't contain her smile. "Thank—"

"On one condition." Farengar grinned as he looked at her, a gesture that somehow elongated his already enormous chin. "I need you to go and get a tablet for me."

Her intestines felt like they were spilling out onto the floor as he looked at her. "From where? The library?" She already knew the answer was no. This was a video game. It was going to be to some dungeon or another to fight some boss and get the loot.

"My sources say it is located in Bleak Falls Barrow just north of Riverwood."

 _And there it is_ , she thought.

"I need you to go in and find a stone artifact within. It is called the Dragonstone. If dragons are returning to Skyrim, its secrets will be an invaluable asset for protection. Return the Dragonstone to me and then I will give you the information you seek."

"I don't think you understand," she said. "I got my ass kicked twice today. _Twice_. By a saber-tooth and a giant. I can't survive in this world, let alone complete a quest!"

Farengar shrugged. "Then I'm afraid you will have to find someone else who can give you the answers you desire."

Summer grit her teeth and balled her fist as she watched him move around his workspace. She was at a disadvantage and he knew it. "Fine. I'll find your stupid tablet."

" _Dragonstone_."

"Whatever." She held out her hand for a second time. "Deal?"

He extended his pale, bony hand to her with a satisfied grin. She shook it and found that was just as cold and sharp as it had appeared. "Deal," he smirked. "I'll have everything you'll need in the morning. Now leave—I have work to do."

Summer was only too eager to get away from him and to a bed where she would relax. Maybe she could even find a bath where she could soak her abused body and try to forget that she was now thrown into another situation where she would likely die.

An old maid stood at the ready with a basket of bread, meat, and cheese. "I'll show you to your room, my lady." She had to be about seventy, yet she moved with an aged grace that was barely sluggish. Summer followed her through the hall and up another flight of stairs until they came upon a labyrinth of doors. The last one on the end was open and had a light burning inside. The one next to it was also occupied and it was no secret as to who was inside when the door shook and emitted a very wolf-like whine as she passed.

"This is your room my lady," the maid said, walking in and setting the basket on a table. "Is there anything else you might be needing?"

"Is there a bathroom around here?"

The maid looked at her quizzically but patiently obliged her guest. "The chamber pot is right there. A basin is by the hearth, and the kettle has been filled. If you need anything else, please ring the bell." She indicated to a system of wires and rings that led up and out the doorway. It reminded Summer of _Cinderella_ and she knew at once that she wouldn't be pulling the cord.

"Thank you," Summer watched the woman go and sighed. She looked to the black kettle that sat beside the hearth. Then to the chamber pot that had been pointed out to her. "Well fuck."

* * *

By the time Summer had dragged herself out of bed, Bishop and Kanwyr were gone. Their room looked as though it had never been occupied and she almost wondered if the man ever existed at all. The wizard, true to his word, had everything prepared for Summer—food, directions, and even a few potions that she had no intention of drinking.

The only thing she was not supplied was a horse. Not that she knew how to ride one, anyway. But her stiff aching muscles would have been grateful. Bruises and scabs covered her pale skin, turning her into a human Dalmatian. Her curls were still unruly, but she managed to tie them back into a crude ponytail with some twine she found in her room. Her clothes still felt drafty from the holes, but they were at least decently clean now, if a bit stiff.

With more people bustling about the city, came more stares and whispers. The result of which made her walk a little faster on her way out.

" _You there! I have something for you._ "

Summer comically turned around just to be sure the blacksmith was actually speaking to her.

"I haven't got all day; a lot of iron to forge."

It was the same beautiful smith that Bishop had paused to talk to. The one with skin that looked like a freshly-brewed black tea. Even with the scars from burns that marred her skin, she was stunning. Not to mention, her strength from working the forge gave her a roughness that commanded your assent to whatever demands she made.

When Summer drew near, the woman wiped her sooty hands on her apron and reached to her hip. She unbuckled a small leather strap that held a sheathed dagger. She held it out to Summer impatiently. "This is yours. Your companion asked that I give it to you when you set off. You woke up so late I almost thought you'd already left."

 _Everyone apparently wakes up at the crack of dawn here_. Summer knew nothing about these things, but the quality of the leather looked like it cost a pretty coin. And the dagger was solid, shiny, and sharp. It felt nice to have a means of protection. Even if she wasn't sure she knew how to use it.

"Thank you," Summer said, looping it through her jeans and buckling it. "I didn't catch your name before?"

"Adrianne."

"I'll remember that." She probably wouldn't. "Thank you again, _Adrianne_." The blacksmith gave her a half-hearted wave before continuing her work, pounding away at some hot metal. Summer rested a hand on the hilt of the blade, sheathing and unsheathing as she walked. It felt unreal to have a weapon strapped to her hip. Of course, it was even more unreal that she would now be alone in her endeavors.

The road to Riverwood was markedly better this time, void of anything that posed a threat to her life. When she reached the small village, she stopped at the Inn for directions. In reality, she hoped to find Bishop and Karnwyr drowning in several mugs of ale inside. Well, Bishop anyway. Her plan to brood and complain about her dangerous quest until he agreed to come along was in vain. Neither were there.

Past the town was nothing but open forest and river. Her destination was an ominous series of stone arches and carved statues that sat a pace up one of the smaller mountains. With no clear path, Summer took the easiest route up the side and hoped for the best. The higher she climbed, the colder it got. Snow easily covered the ground, growing inches deep in a matter of a few steps. She hoped the snow would keep any wildlife away. Or at least would slow them in an attack.

Finally, when she reached a level piece of ground, she stopped. She was out of breath and shivering, wishing that Farengar had packed a jacket instead of potions that would likely kill her. From her spot, she could see a massive door that led into the place and reasoned that it must not be as cold inside.

When she got there, the barrow was vacant. There was not a soul to be seen and she eagerly ran for the doors. They were freezing cold—having been made mostly of iron—and relied on rusted hinges. Although they did not make a sound, they were heavy to move. She only managed to pull it enough to squeeze her body through, quickly closing it again after her.

The place was massive, filled with collapsed stones that hinted at a once-grand temple. It was mostly dark and still cold, though it was definitely warmer than the snowy abyss outside. Somewhere, behind a large pillar, there was a fire going. Among the crackling, she could hear traces of movement.

She tip-toed across the floor, avoiding anything that might make a sound when she stepped on it. Finally, close enough, she crouched behind the large mass of stone. The light from the fire cast shadows on the wall. There was a person sitting there, stoking the fire.

Summer felt her heart pound as she watched. What would she do now? She'd resolved herself to killing wolves, or trolls, or whatever beast might lie ahead. But this was murder—cold and heartless. All for the sake of a tablet and ticket home. The barkeep at the Inn had warned her of bandits hiding out here. Was this one of them? Did that justify killing?

 _It's just a game_ , she told herself. _None of this is real life._ She drew the dagger and gripped it tight. _You do what you need to get out of here._ She took a deep, steadying breath and leapt out from behind the column, dagger raised.

There was no one there. She looked to the wall and briefly wondered if she'd only imagined it. Had it only been a trick of the light?

In a flash, one hand had a fist of her hair, and the other was in control of the dagger. A large hand crushed hers against the hilt of the blade, forcing her to press the cold steel to her throat. A small cry of pain escaped her lips when he gripped a little harder on her hair, pulling it back to expose a little more of her throat.

Just as she was resolved to death, the man spoke. "And here I thought you weren't gonna show. You sure took your time, _Princess_."

Summer's heart stumbled a bit in her chest. "Bishop?"

The man released her with a slight shove, laughing. "The one and only." He sheathed her dagger just as Karnwyr appeared from the shadows, giving a soft bark and wagging his tail. He trotted over to Summer who was still rubbing her throat.

"Jesus! You nearly broke my neck. What the hell?"

"You're lucky I got here before you. Those bandits would have butchered you." He motioned to a stack of bodies that lay in a heap in the corner. The sight made Summer's stomach lurch and she quickly turned away.

"How did you know I was even in here? I was being so quiet!" She moved closer to the fire as she pet Karnwyr, absorbing its warmth.

Bishop let out a bark of laughter and scrubbed at his wild brown hair. "' _Quiet_ ,' she says. You stomped in here like a swamp boar! Not even those bandits would have made as much noise as you did."

"Yeah, well, I had a knife on me. I could have taken them."

He looked unimpressed as he resumed his seat by the fire. "The way you hold it, it might as well be a knife." His hair took on a reddish hue and his eyes seemed to glow in the dim light by the fire, making him appear ominous. Summer was glad he was an ally.

"Not all of us grew up in the outdoors." She huffed and crossed her arms. "And I'll have you know I'm actually pretty good with a bow."

"Oh really?" Bishop's eyes sparkled mischievously. He reached behind him and plucked out his bow from the holder, also drawing an arrow to match. He held out both to her and nodded to the pile of bodies in the far corner. "If you can land one in a head, I'll be impressed."

Summer took the offer, snatching them from his hand. Shifting her weight, she turned to the corpses. The bodies of men who looked so alive, laying lifelessly on top of each other, was more than unsettling. One near the bottom, was staring at her with a permanent expression of fear. His neck was twisted in an unnatural way and she wasn't sure if it was post-mortem. Loading the arrow, she aimed for the head.

The tip shook as she looked at the face that stared at her. The world tipped and she stumbled a bit, catching herself on the pillar. She looked down at the stones near her feet, examining the moss. _This isn't real. It's just a game. This isn't real._

"You've never seen the dead before, have you?"

Summer felt like puking up her lunch and being done with it, but she held it in to save her embarrassment. Shaking, she all but threw the bow down and scrambled through her bag until she found the canteen of water inside. She drank it in large gulps and tried to even her breathing. His expression was burned in her mind and she saw it when she blinked.

After a few silent moments she gathered herself and set the bag aside, picking up the bow once more. This was her life now. She would need to do what she had to if she wanted to survive to make it home. She took a breath and aimed at one of the balding heads in the heap.

Bishop's hand rested on her wrist and she was a little too relieved. Though she expected his face to show his condescension, he seemed empathetic. Instead, he pointed to a large rat that was slowly making its way out of a den and into the great hall.

Quickly and easily, she aimed and show the arrow. As sure as she expected, she hit the rat right in the chest. After a sharp squeal, he too became one of the lifeless bodies.

Bishop gave a slow, gloved clap that echoed in the walls. "Seems I ordered you the wrong weapon." His approval gave her more joy than she dared admit. "We'll see about getting a bow made for you when we get back to town." He took back the weapon and went off to retrieve the arrow.

"I never said thank you," she said. "For the dagger. It was really nice of you."

Bishop smirked and removed the arrow from the rat. "I figured you needed something for protection." He grabbed a pack of his own and started for the next leg of the journey. "Though the gods know your voice is more than enough to drive any man insane."

Maybe she'd end up using her dagger on him after all.

* * *

The ruins led down into a series of tunnels that seemed to be carved out of the very mountain. Old roots, some as thick as her thigh, lay in tangled webs on the ground and it took a lot of coordination to make sure she didn't trip over too many.

They passed by several bookcases that were littered with baskets, rolls of linen, and other various items that she didn't dare touch. There were also a few conveniently-lit candles to light their way, nestled on small ledges or stone tables. Near one, there was a chest and they paused. It was locked, but Bishop made easy work of it.

"Why am I not surprised that you know how to pick a lock," she said.

He chuckled softly. The lock made a small clicking sound and the lid popped open. Inside he took several objects, including some gold coins. A small urn to the side caught her attention. It looked like something out of _The Mummy_ and it made her shiver. Still, curiosity won and she lifted the lid tentatively.

A small, black spider went skittering out and she yelped, the lid shattering on the floor. She backpedaled into Bishop, who quickly clamped a hand over her mouth and shushed her. The black spot disappeared into a crack.

"Damn it, woman! Do you want all of Skyrim to know we're here?" He released her, turning her around to face him. "Keep it down—we'll be lucky if you didn't wake the dead!"

"Well I'm sorry!" She said, keeping her voice down to match his. "I'm really afraid of spiders—it's not my fault." He rolled his eyes and bent to scoop the gold from the urn. "Hey that's mine!"

"Don't hesitate then; if you want something you better take it while you can, or someone else will." He continued down the hall in a stride, pocketing the gold.

Summer followed after him, glaring at his back, but determined to keep his pace. The next time they came upon a bookcase, Summer pushed past him and swiped anything he might reach for—potion, gold, crystal, or weapon. The action gained some wary glances and some competition.

A war was sparked and very soon the two were silently fighting for items. Each bookcase was met with a fast approach and a lot of shoving. Although he could easily overpower her, she was much faster and was able to grab quite a few coins before him. Both of them were grinning like children and when they came to a spiral staircase, she was the first to descend.

She accidentally kicked a large rat in her rush to get down and stumbled against the wall. The pest rolled down a few times with a yelp, landed, and then charged back up the stairs. Karnwyr was the first to intercept, easily tackling the creature and ripping it apart. With a soft bark, he leapt out into the next room and attacked the next two around the corner.

The encounter was a somber reminder of where they were and a truce was called. They walked through a series of archways, Summer using a stick to clear the cobwebs away so they could pass.

" _Help! Is someone there? Help me!_ "

Summer and Bishop looked to each other.

 _"I'm sorry for going ahead, guys. I won't do it again—please help!"_

They rounded a corner and were faced with two archways. One covered in vines and the other covered in…

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Afraid so, Princess." Bishop said, looking out into the next room, which was covered in thick webs.

"Oh my god." Summer looked down at her stick, covered in webs and tossed it away from her, wiping her hands on her jeans. She started to tremble at the sight of it, seriously considering the value of a stranger's life.

 _"Help me!"_

Bishop picked up an old torch and began to hack at the sticky webs, wrapping it around the handle like it was cotton candy. Summer watched from a safe distance, surveying her surroundings to ensure that there were no eight-legged minions around her.

Just as Bishop was about to go through, a large leg dropped into view. Summer slapped a hand over her mouth and watched in terror as a spider—twice her size—dropped down to the floor in front of them. The hairs on its body were clearly visible, and the joints crackled as it moved. The pincers seemed to be tasting the air as it explored where its web had been disturbed, and a bit of saliva dripped to the ground.

Summer dropped to her knees, watching through tears as Bishop carefully picked up a sword from a pile of bones. Like a true predator, he snuck in behind it. His boots made no sound as he easily moved across the stone behind the giant arachnid. Swinging the sword, he took out a leg. The crunch made Summer's stomach churn and she covered her ears for the rest.

The spider screamed and scrambled to turn around. Bishop let out a war cry that echoed in the empty space. He drove the sword straight into the head. The move made it jerk, but a twist of the handle ceased all movement and it fell, dead. Bishop left the borrowed sword in the monster and wiped away some of the goo that landed on his cheek. It left a red mark from where the poison had burned his skin.

"You can come out now, Princess."

Summer stood, wrapping her arms tightly around her body. She stared ahead at the web-covered nightmare and shook her head.

 _"Please! Cut me down! I'll-I'll share the treasure with you, just get me down!"_

Karnwyr whined and walked over to Summer, circling her once before nuzzling the fingers at her waist. She gently smiled at him and relaxed, petting his head. Satisfied with this answer, he let out a bark and ran off to be with Bishop. Reluctantly, she followed after. She looked carefully around at the webs that bordered the arch, checking for any sign of movement. Seeing none, she quickly darted through and into the other room, careful to keep away from the webs. She kept her eyes on the corpse of the spider, grimacing at the poison that oozed into a puddle from its mouth.

"You did a great job getting rid of that monster! Now get me out of here!" There was a man with ash-colored skin and dark eyes suck in a web, half spun in the sticky substance. He looked to be an adventurer, and judging by the human-sized sacs surrounding him, he wasn't alone to begin with.

Bishop looked at him thoughtfully, then turned to Summer. "He is in our way."

"Why are you stalling, then?" She said.

Bishop shrugged, mussing his spiky brown hair. "He could be dangerous. Are you sure you want to risk it?" Behind him, Karnwyr was growling softly.

"Please! I promise, I know everything—the claw, the puzzle, _everything_. Just cut me down and I'll take you to it! We can split it! Come on, what do you say?"

"Cut him down." She said, getting close enough that she could see the facial hair of the adventurer. "What's your name?"

"Arvel," he said, grunting as Bishop cut one arm free. "That's it! I'm almost free!" It took only a few more cuts before the webs fell away from the door and the man landed on his feet. His hand massaged his wrists and he sighed. "That's much better!" He looked to the two of them and then jerked backwards, sprinting off down the hallway.

"Hey!" Summer moved to follow, but was stopped by Bishop's arm.

"See ya, suckers! I'm not sharing my treasure with nobody!" Arvel's voice echoed as he ran down the tunnels.

Summer tried to move past Bishop. "He's going to get there first! We have to catch him before he takes it!"

Bishop gave a chuckle and a toothy grin, one that included some sharp incisors. "I highly doubt that, Darling. At that pace, he's going to be dead before too long." He dropped his arm and followed after Arvel at a leisurely place. Karnwyr took the lead, sniffing as he went. "Word of the wise; never rush into an unknown ruin."

The trio was met with more altars and more lit passages as they continued to descend, until finally they entered a massive crypt. Summer wondered if it was an old barracks, lined with bunk beds, but the first decaying corpse easily put her theory to rest. She shuddered at the sight of the muscle, now withered and purple. It was so gory that she might have thought it was fake if it wasn't for the musty smell of rotting flesh and iron that hung thickly in the air.

As predicted, Arvel lay in the middle of their path, dead in a pool of his own blood. A chill went up Summer's spine and she leaned closer to Bishop, looking up at the ceiling. "Why is he just lying there? What could have killed him?" She looked around a bit more. "I don't see anything. Or anyone, for that matter," she said.

"My guess?" Bishop drew his knife. It made no sound as it ran against its leather housing, but the metal glinted in the candlelight. "One of these guys." He was looking at the mummies that were laid to rest around them. Some of them were clothed and some of them not.

Summer felt cold as she looked at each of them. "What?"

Suddenly there was a growl and a few bits of rubble fell to the floor. One of the corpses, dressed in decaying hide armor, began to rise. Its glowing eyes stared at them and it snarled.

"Are you serious? There's zombies here?" She heard more movement and saw two more creeping from their beds.

"I suggest you grab a torch there, Darling. The dragur burn like kindling." Bishop was waiting for the first to make its move. Karnwyr stood at Summer's side, crouched and baring his teeth.

Summer snorted. "Oh yeah, so I have to fight a dead guy who is _on fire_. Brilliant idea."

The first dragur took a heavy stride forward. Bishop smiled. "Suit yourself!" Summer could hear the scuffle behind her and hoped he was winning.

The two others rounded the pillar and raised their weapons. One had an arrow at the ready. The other held a short iron axe. Karnwyr lunged at the one holding the bow. The wolf tackled him to the ground, biting and tearing at anything his teeth could reach.

The dragur holding the sword swung at Summer and she stumbled backwards to evade. Holding a lighter sword made the dead man attack faster. Every time Summer ducked one blow, he'd be at the ready with another. She continued to clumsily back up until she hit wall. The dead man swung and Summer slid down. She landed on her bruised bottom and let out a loud groan that turned into rage. Pulling her leg back, she viciously kicked at his knee. The aged bone snapped backwards and the corpse collapsed to the ground. Picking up the dropped sword, Summer yelled as she drove it into the exposed ribs of his chest.

The handle of the axe protruded from the chest like a half-split log, but the blue glow did not disappear from its hollow eyes. Instead it gripped the handle and tugged it out, rising to his feet again. Summer was already standing and watching in disbelief. Black puss oozed from the wound, but the dragur paid it no heed. Bishop was already walking up behind him, making no effort to conceal his approach. With a swift stroke, his dagger plunged into the creature's neck. The light in its eyes died that time and it fell to the floor.

"Thanks," she said. The other two dragur added to the four bodies that littered the room. She stepped over the one she'd fought and picked up the bow from the other. Examining it, she slid it over her shoulder and grabbed the collection of arrows to match. "I'll take this."

Behind her, Bishop began rifling through Arvel's clothes. Eventually he pulled a small pouch from the body and opened it. A grin told her that there were some valuables inside. Reaching back inside the coat, he pulled out a large golden object that resembled a claw. On the palm it held a series of carvings. He held it up and nodded to Arvel's body. "Thanks for sharing your treasure."

Summer couldn't help but laugh. The sound caught the attention of both her companions and she shrugged. "That was intense. I really hope that was the last of them." She looked around and noted that all the others in the room remained unclothed. They weren't likely to be warriors for the dead.

Bishop smirked and pocketed the coin. "You did better than last time, Princess. You almost injured him."

Summer rolled her eyes, but smirked. "Fuck off, Bishop." She went on ahead. There was a tunnel with a spiked wall to one side. "How deep do you think this will go?" She turned to look back. "It's going to be hell trying to leave again."

Bishop grabbed her by the shoulder and roughly jerked her backwards. The action ripped through her joint and she let out a yelp of pain. "What the—"

"Careful Princess," he pointed down to a large circular rock that held a design burned into the face of it. "These Nordic ruins are known for their traps." Again, he gestured to the wall of spikes. It took a moment for Summer to recognize that the stone would have trigged the wall to swing and she would have easily been shish kabob-ed.

Bishop easily stepped over it and continued on. Summer was not brave enough and went carefully around, hugging the wall until she was safely past it. The tunnels continued to narrow, but the tombs did not stop. Instead the shelves became smaller and the corpses became skeletons. As they walked, a strange noise became noticeable. It sounded like two blades scraping together in a rhythmic pattern. It grew louder and Summer imagined a battalion of dragur sharpening their swords in sync.

Finally, they rounded the corner and found the source. "Oh, you're kidding me," Summer said. Curved blades swung from side to side, the first and the third swinging in the same directions, while the middle swung opposite.

"I told you, these ruins are full of traps," Bishop said. Summer glared at him and put her hands on her hips, waiting. When he caught on he smiled and crossed his arms. "Oh no. After you, Sweetheart."

"What? No! I'm not going first. You go."

He chuckled and stepped into the tunnel. "If you insist." He paused for a moment, counting the swings. Then, as if there was no danger, he easily walked through. The sight caused her more anxiety to watch than he clearly felt. At every swing she expected him to be cut in half. Once on the other side, he spun on his heel and held up his hands. "Your turn, Princess."

 _I'm going to kick him in his cocky balls when I get over there,_ Summer thought bitterly. Taking a deep breath, she entered the tunnel and got closer to the first blade. The space between each was enough for her to fit comfortably, but one false move and her flesh would be filleted by the sharpened metal.

She counted the swings and told herself it was just like coming in on a moving jump rope—something she'd never succeeded at. After the first swing she took a step to safety. The next one swung and she could feel the breeze from it. She waited until it swung again to step to the next section. She overstepped and the edge of the blade caught the hem of her shirt, ripping it up to her navel. Taking a small step back she clung to the string of the bow on her shoulder and looked up at Bishop, separated only by one pendulum.

"Just one more step," he said. His voice was calm and reassuring. "Almost there." The last one swung by again and Summer leapt forward. Bishop caught her on the other side, holding her for only a moment before patting her back and moving away. "Well done, Darling."

Summer took a deep breath to force her stiff muscles to relax and to calm her pounding heart. One hand went out to the wall to steady herself. "Thanks," she smiled, looking back at the trap. Beyond the swinging blades, Karnwyr sat. He was waiting patiently, his tail wagging as he looked at the two. "Oh no! Karnwyr! We forgot him!" She stood as close as she could to the blades again, looking to the wolf helplessly. "We have to go get him."

"Oh, he's fine. He's just waiting for me to disable the trap."

" _What?_ "

Bishop tugged at a chain that fed into the wall. With a series of clinks and rattling chains, the blades swung for the last time, disappearing into the roof. When it was clear that it had been stopped, the wolf happily ran through the tunnel. At the look of disbelief on her face, Bishop burst into laughter.

"You son of a—! You tricked me!" She balled up her fist and hit him on the arm. It only made him laugh harder. "You're such an ass!" Her hands hit him over and over—on the back, on the arm, on his shoulder. Each one seemed to amuse him even more until he was holding his sides and crying with laughter. Seeing that her efforts were in vain, she went on ahead with Karnwyr, cursing to herself. Bishop followed after, his deep hearty laugh slowly dying into a chuckle.

A few dragur stood in small alcoves that were carved into the wall now. Summer wasted no time using her knives and arrows to kill them before their eye sockets began to glow. Each clothed one she passed, she stepped up on the ledge and plunged her dagger into its skull. The sound of life being restored for a brief moment, only to be snuffed out a second later, was consolation to the rage.

Slowly the tombs faded away and the tunnels once again returned to a more natural surrounding. Roots from trees pierced through the walls in search of underground water. Moss and ferns began popping up in patches of raw soil and dampened stone. Bishop wisely let her take the lead and said nothing. But she could still feel his amusement.

Eventually they could hear the sound of water and found a giant cave that was lit with a large bonfire. A waterfall cascaded from the wall down into a small stream that flowed through the room. Roots littered the floor and greedily reached for a drink. A small stone bridge led to a doorway that looked collapsed.

As soon as all three were within the cavern, there was a loud knock. The coffin lid from across the way fell to the floor and another dragur stepped out. Summer slid her bow from her shoulder and grabbed an arrow. The first hit it in the chest. The second hit him square between the eyes, but it wasn't from her bow.

She looked back and narrowed her eyes at Bishop. He simply shrugged, but looked amused that he had taken her kill. She followed the path to the bridge, but couldn't see any way to continue—boulders stacked in the doorway with no hope of proceeding. "Did we miss a turn?"

"Here," Bishop jumped into the water with a light splash and walked to a gate. Pulling a chain similar to before, he opened the gate.

Summer followed after the boys, slowly. She carefully stepped from rock to rock, using the wall to make sure she didn't slip. Bishop was a fair way away before he realized she was not behind him and looked to find her. "What are you doing?"

"Trying not to step in the water!" She nearly slipped when she lost concentration but quickly recovered. "My shoes aren't exactly as waterproof as yours are, if you haven't noticed. I'd really like to not get frostbite and lose my toes."

Bishop sighed and rolled his eyes. He waited for a moment then gave a curse.

His quick approach made her panic and she braced herself. "What are you doing?"

In one swift motion, Bishop picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. "I don't have all night to wait for you to skip your way over." Before she could properly protest being carried, he unceremoniously set her back down on dry land. "Let's go. I'm sure it can't be much further."

Summer rubbed her exposed stomach and shivered. This part of the trek was much colder than before and she supposed it was the lack of torches. Instead there was a strange blue glow that appeared to emanate from the wall ahead.

Following Bishop, she found a series of mushrooms as the source of the steady light. They clung to the wall in a series of groups and held small strands of that hung low. They reminded her of jellyfish and she gently reached out to touch it. Their tops were soft but fuzzy like a peach and she wondered if they would taste like one. Reluctantly she moved on to catch up to the boys.

A slight breeze began to move through the cavern and she wondered if they were close to the end. They followed along the bank of the stream until it ended at the mouth of a waterfall. The cave opened up and a brilliant light streamed from the ceiling. The snow on the ground told Summer that there was an opening to the outside world somewhere above. She stood on the edge and looked down, stunned by the beauty of the glistening snow and the mist of a waterfall below her feet.

There was an ice-covered bridge below and she tightly wrapped her arms around herself, looking around. They found a small tunnel that led them down to it and crossed over. The view of the sunlight, with snow falling like fairy dust through the crevice, was a sight she would remember. The only beauty she'd seen in this damned dungeon.

The room beyond the slippery bridge was much warmer and she was very grateful to the large fire by the next door. Bishop must have known she was quite cold and allowed her to pause for as long as she needed to warm up next to the flames. When she was ready, she nodded to him and they went through the door.

The familiar metal-on-metal sound was unwelcome and Summer hated Bishop all over again. Sure enough, the swinging blade trap lay as a barrier, only this time they were all in sync. The corner of Bishop's mouth twitched and she smacked his arm. It only served to trigger a full grin.

He went first this time, shutting off the trap when he reached the end to allow Summer and Karnwyr to safely pass. Before they got all the way through, the wolf's nose went to the air and he ran forward with a bark. Bishop easily landed an arrow in the skull while the dragur was distracted by the barking beast in front of it and the body dropped.

Summer noted the ruins as she looked around for more of the dead warriors. The architecture, although primitive, was impressive. There were a series of wooden stairs, stone bridges, and proper structural support. The random iron sculptures and designs that were similar to other pieces. A metal grate stood in the middle of the floor and the sound of moving water echoed from it. They both avoided it, just to be sure.

Up the stairs on the second floor they found a long, rounded hallway. The walls were lined in petroglyphs that all seemed to point to the circular door. The two followed it to the end and observed the next test.

"Looks like a puzzle," Bishop said. "Guess the right order and it may open." His gloved fingers touched the main piece where four holes sat. "Needs a key."

Summer looked at the carvings and gasped. "That thing! The one you took from…what's-his-face. I bet it was meant to open this!"

"…'What's-his-face'?"

Summer huffed and held out her hand. "Can I see it? I think it had that owl on it!"

Bishop dubiously reached inside of his jacket and pulled it out, handing it over. She fit the claw to the holes and found a match. When she turned it, the door didn't budge. She removed it and flipped it over, looking at the sequence on the palm. Looking up at the door she tried to move the one close to her with her free hand. When it didn't budge, she tried to turn it, still awkwardly holding the claw.

Bishop chuckled and shoved her aside. "Let me do it. What is this one?"

"Owl."

He spun that section, the stone grinding as it slid. The owl appeared and he stopped it when it was in the center.

"Moth?"

He spun the middle one until the insect appeared and then continued. "Wait, that's it! Stop!"

"That's a dragonfly."

"What? No it's a—never mind. That's it. The last one is a bear."

Bishop seemed to struggle with the top one. "Does this one actually look like a bear?"

"Shut up."

Finally, the three were aligned and she tried the claw again. This time, the claw turned and the door rattled. Rubble fell as each of the three tiers spun until they were all owls and the door lifted. A cascade of dust came down and coated the three, snuffing the fire beside them. Summer and Bishop coughed, while Karnwyr let out a series of sneezes.

When they stepped through, the cold air rushed at them and it hit her like an iceberg. The light streamed in again, illuminating a ritual platform ahead. After a few steps, Sumer paused. "Hey wait," she said. She tilted her head. "Do you hear that?"

Bishop went still and listened for a moment. "The water?"

"No," she said, taking a few steps forward. The noise got a little louder. "It sounds like…chanting?" She walked forward a bit more, following the sound.

"You've eaten one too many of those mushrooms if you're hearing things. There's no chanting Princess."

Summer approached the light. Across the stream was an altar and a coffin on a raised stone platform. To the left, water fell from the cavern ceiling and down into a stream below. In the back, a rounded area held a series of marks and was headed by an iron carving. A symbol that she couldn't make out. The chanting was coming from there, she was sure of it. Would it be a portal home? Could it possibly be so easy?

The closer she came, the more she felt like every muscle in her body was attached to a string that was pulling her in. Even if she wanted to, she felt like she couldn't escape its hold on her. Maybe this was the key to getting home all along.

A marking in the center of the wall began to glow and she stared at it as she stepped onto the bridge. It seemed to whisper to her, words that she couldn't understand. The chanting was very loud now and she—

Stepped right off the bridge.

Her arms scraped against the stone as she tried to catch herself, unsuccessfully. The landing to her bottom this time was softer than previous times. Or perhaps the icy water was cold enough to instantly numb the pain before turning into pins and needles.

Bishop's rich, hearty laughter echoed throughout the cavern and she sighed. As if nothing had happened, the chanting continued in the background. Summer irritably maneuvered herself to the bank, thankful that her feet had somehow escaped the icy peril that her ass had plunged into.

He was still laughing when she got to her feet, but this time he was standing on the edge and looking down at her. "Very graceful, Princess." He held out his hand and Summer took it.

Effortlessly, he pulled her up and she brushed off her jeans. The water covering her backside felt like a block of ice and she tried to peel away the shirt from her skin. "Fuck me." She just let it be and strode towards the source of chanting, shivering in the cold. She walked back over the bridge, this time watching her steps. She took two of the stairs until she reached the ritual platform. Summer noted the chest and the coffin warily.

The marks still glowed on the wall, though now there was a stream of light, as thin as mist, that seemed to swirl out and caress her fiery curls. Up close, the sound was almost deafening and it made her heart pound faster as if to match the rhythm of the Nordic chanting. Her hand reached out and she touched the carvings.

Like a shock of electricity, the light sparked and traveled up her arm and into her head. Her eyes burned and she shut them quickly, tearing her hand from the wall. The chanting changed to something that sounded like a glorious praise for a job well done, then faded. Bishop put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

It took her a moment. Her mouth felt dry and tender, as if she'd given a lecture all day. "I think so," she said. When she opened her eyes, the word had changed. _Fus_. It meant _Force_. But how did she know that? "You don't think this is the Dragonstone, do you?" The wall was enormous, with tons of scribbling on it. It might take her the rest of the day to copy it down legibly enough for Farengar to translate.

"Damn if I know," he said. "Though my guess is it's in this massive chest."

Summer looked at her palm, but found nothing on it, except the scratches leftover from her human kayak experience yesterday. The two of them made their way over to an extremely large chest of wood and iron. It was in excellent condition and looked like it had remained closed for a long time, though it was unlocked.

Bishop did the honors and they found a fair collection of goods; a purse of gold, a spell book, and a finely crafted sword. But no tablet.

They looked at each other. "Now what?" She said.

Beside them, a loud cracking noise sounded. The two of them looked at the trembling coffin. The lid popped open and spewed dust like the others and slid to the side. A large—also very dead—hand clawed its way out, soon followed by a body. It was a Dragur, but one that seemed much larger and more frightening than the others.

Something attached to his belt caught her attention and she gasped. "He has the stone!" Bishop noticed it too and he grinned, taking out his knives.

"Well, what luck for us. We won't have to carry home that wall after all." His fingers gripped the daggers, clenching and unclenching in anticipation of the attack. "Hand it over."

The dragur hit his sword to his shield three times, letting out a gargled yell. Then, with no warning, he charged Bishop. The hunter caught the long blade between his, just above his head. Summer stepped aside, trying to get out of their way as he forced Bishop back several paces. Karnwyr frantically barked and attacked at the heels from behind.

The dragur growled and shoved Bishop from him. With space between them, the undead took a deep breath. When he exhaled, the words he spoke were lost in a clap of thunder; a spell that sent Bishop flying back towards the word wall. With one enemy down, the monster brought up his shield and slammed it against the wolf. Karnwyr went tumbling down the stairs, yelping.

Summer drew out her own dagger, her hands shaking as adrenaline rushed through her veins. With its back turned to her, she took a chance. She plunged the blade into the junction where neck meets shoulder. There had to be an artery there somewhere.

The dragur stumbled forward only a moment, then spun. His glowing eyes were focused on her and he advanced quickly. Summer scrambled to retreat. Her back hit the edge of the altar and her heart squeezed. Instantly, he had his hand around her throat. The dragur picked her up as if she weighed nothing and she desperately tried to kick him. Her throat crushed and the pressure in her face felt like it intended to explode.

Summer watched in horror as the beast drew back his blade, plunging it right through her sternum. Just as quickly, he slid it out and dropped her. She fell back against the altar, striking her head against the stone, causing her ears to ring. Desperately she tried to take a breath. Air felt like it scratched her throat and made her cough. Each breath became harder, her lungs becoming heavier. Her hands felt the hole in her chest. They easily slid inside; she could feel the slimy muscles underneath and she jerked it away.

The blood on her fingertips was surreal. There wasn't much pain, just a crushing weight. She coughed again and this time, she felt a cool sensation around her lips. As it trickled down her cheek, she knew it was the blood filling up her lungs. Although she inhaled deep, she was suffocating. It reminded her of a trip she'd taken to the mountains. The hike where she couldn't seem to catch her breath in the high altitude.

She was dying.

Summer desperately clawed at the desk, tears blurring what was left of her vision. She wanted to cry out for Bishop, but her voice was no more than a gurgle. She felt hot, so very hot. She looked at her fingers again, expecting it to be just a dream. That they would be bloodless this time. They weren't. But they seemed to begin smoking at the tips.

Then her heart stopped. She felt it stop beating—drowned in its own life source. She watched in horror as the appendages began to glow like embers. Like the tip of a cigarette, the ring of fire consumed her flesh, leaving only ash behind. It was the last she saw before the whole world stopped and she died.

Bishop called out her name, but her ears could no longer hear. With the Dragur Overlord dead by his own blade, he rushed to her. He lifted her head from the stone altar and looked into her eyes. "Summer!" His voice echoed in the cavern. And just like that, her face was consumed by the flame and the ash slipped through his fingers.

Horrified, he stepped back. The ashes shifted and moved in the slight breeze. They blew off the table and swirled into a pile on the floor. The air went still and Karnwyr limped up to it, sniffing carefully. He gave a whine and laid down beside it.

Bishop's fist clenched and he hung his head, taking some steadying breaths. When he was composed, he walked over to the body and removed the belt from the headless corpse. Tying it around his waist, he walked over to the chest and pocketed the coin from inside.

"Let's go," he said to the wolf. Karnwyr whined and moved his tail a bit. "She's dead. We can't stay here." Karnwyr didn't move. Instead he barked and wagged his tail, pawed at the ash. "Hey stop that." The wolf stood and dug more. "I said stop—"

A hand, pale and soft, fell out. Bishop's heart slammed against his chest and he sucked in a breath. Karnwyr barked and nuzzled the palm, licking it. The fingers twitched and the wolf stepped away.

The ashes rose as one heap, then fell away to slowly reveal red curls and pale flesh. Summer coughed and clawed her way out of the dust. Ashes scattered in her wake and brought herself to sit against the side of the coffin. The gray powder covered her naked body and coated her curls, she almost looked like she was a dragur herself. Her hands groped at her chest, but there was no hole left. She trembled and looked around, tears causing dark lines to track from her eyes and down her cheeks. The cold air chilled her and she curled up closer, hugging herself tightly as she shook. Her breaths came in sharp gasps, only interrupted when she coughed.

Her brown eyes found Bishop and he looked down at her with mistrust. His eyes seemed to glow in the dim lighting, ablaze with an unknown emotion. Although he didn't draw a blade to her she suspected he might be considering it.

" _What the hell are you?_ "


End file.
